


Reverie

by dontcareajot



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, Lots of kissing, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 22:24:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8941768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontcareajot/pseuds/dontcareajot
Summary: The problem, he decides, is that the dreams feel too real. They feel more like memories than dreams. But he’s definitely never kissed Dan, never even really entertained the idea. Not seriously, anyway.He is now, though.He touches his lips, remembering the way it’d felt in the dream. It was… nice, to say the least. His heart is still doing weird, fluttery things in his chest at the thought.Or, the one where Arin starts to have recurring dreams about kissing Dan and enjoys them more than he probably should.





	

The first dream opens on a party of some kind, all noise and flashing lights, but quickly shifts, in the way dreams do, to a more intimate setting. One second Arin can barely catch a glimpse of Dan across a crowded room, the next they’re standing alone together in Arin’s kitchen. There’s music playing from a small radio in the corner, softly, and Dan is shimmying in time to the beat as he cooks, spatula in one hand.

Arin watches him fondly, smile tugging at his lips. This scene isn’t exactly unfamiliar. Dan’s cooking skills are mediocre at best but there’s something inexplicably nice about the way he moves around Arin’s kitchen, knows where everything is without having to be told.

It could be the normalcy that puts Arin at ease, makes him feel comfortable, or it could be the way Dan turns to smile at him, grin crinkling up the corners of his eyes.

“Almost ready,” he sing-songs. “You’ll love it, dude. Old family recipe, passed down from generation to generation.” He turns back to the stove, twirling the spatula, and begins humming along to the radio.

Arin loves Dan. That’s no secret- Dan is his best friend, has been for years now. But right at this second Arin feels it so keenly. He’s warm and content and laughing at the way Dan is shaking his narrow hips. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to cross the room and embrace Dan from behind, arms snaking around Dan’s midsection and chin resting on his bony shoulder.

Dan tilts his head so that it lightly bumps Arin’s. His curls tickle Arin’s cheek but Arin doesn’t mind.

“Hey, baby,” Dan coos, smile audible.

“Hey,” Arin replies. He nuzzles at Dan’s neck until Dan spins around in his arms so that they’re face to face. Arin’s hands slip to his hips. They’re standing much closer than they normally would, Dan’s arms draped over Arin’s shoulders and barely and inch between them, but it feels right. And it feels right to lean in, to coax Dan into a kiss. It’s chaste, sweet, and the last thing Arin sees before he wakes up are Dan’s eyes, reflecting Arin’s own overwhelming fondness back at him.

The warm contentment from the dream is quick to fade as Arin’s bedroom ceiling comes into focus. Instead he feels kind of sick to his stomach. He’s not sure why- it was just a kiss. Most people probably dream about kissing their best friend at some point, right? It can’t be _that_ weird.

In fact, Arin should probably tell Dan. They can have a good laugh about it, about Arin’s silly and improbable dream. Hell, the dream was tame compared to the things that have already come out of Arin’s own mouth. Just yesterday, during the grump session, they’d joked about face fucking. A dream about a kiss is nothing in comparison.

But Arin can’t bring himself to do it. He has plenty of opportunity. They don’t have a session that day, but Dan does come over. They wind up sprawled over the couch watching a b-grade horror flick, something that shouldn’t be scary but still manages to make Dan shriek at least once. They’re both wrapped up in the same blanket, their shoulders pressed together. Arin opens his mouth to say something, to casually bring it up, but snaps it closed when Dan turns to look at him, inquisitive. 

“Do I have something on my face?” Dan asks, brows furrowing.

Normally Arin would make a joke, would cover up his blunder with humor. Instead he watches as Dan drags a thumb along his own jaw line, over the stubble there. He swallows. “Um,” he says, ever eloquent. “Nah, man. It’s- there’s nothing.” He forces his gaze back to the TV just in time for a jump scare, but neither he nor Dan have been paying enough attention to be frightened.

“Everything okay?” Dan asks, all friendly concern.

Arin never meant to worry him. “Yeah, man,” he replies, because everything _is_ okay. It was just a stupid dream.

Dan still looks concerned so Arin adds, “I just didn’t sleep well.”

Some of Dan’s worry smooths away. “Me, neither,” he says, relaxing back into the cushions. Arin doesn't need to ask why. Dan’s insomnia has likely returned with a vengeance, if the circles under his eyes are anything to go by. He reaches over to ruffle Arin’s hair. “Tonight will be better,” he says, ever the optimist.

“Definitely,” Arin agrees, but it’s half-hearted at best.

-

Arin doesn’t dream for several nights in a row. Or, he doesn’t dream about _Dan_ , which is the important thing. He’s just starting to feel right again, is just starting to fall back into his usual rhythm with Dan, when he has the second dream.

This time it’s Christmas. The signs are everywhere. Arin’s home has been renovated into a Christmas wonderland. There’s garland and lights draped over the mantle, wreaths hung on every available wall, stockings over the fireplace, an overly decorated Christmas tree in the corner, and the undeniable smell of cinnamon in the air. Most of Arin’s closest friends are there. Ross, in the corner drinking eggnog and wearing the ugliest sweater Arin’s ever seen. Barry and Vernon, heads tilted together, laughing at some private joke. Brian, trying to coax unsuspecting people under the mistletoe. Suzy and Holly, sitting close together on the couch, exchanging gifts. There are others, too, crossing from room to room, providing a current of background noise.

But Arin can’t find Dan.

 _I’ll ask Brian_ , he thinks, and steps forward- only to abruptly change his mind, deciding that Dan must be outside. His feet carry him to the patio door instead. Through the foggy glass he spots Dan’s silhouette, his back to the house as he gazes silently at the stars.

Arin opens and closes the door as quietly as possible. Outside, away from the Christmas music and the friendly chatter, the night seems so very still. And as Arin stands there, it starts to snow, small flakes drifting lazily down to settle in Dan’s hair and across his shoulders. If he were awake this would strike Arin as strange. As it is, he simply accepts it, and raises his hand to watch as snowflakes land in his palm and melt away.

Dan finally takes notice of him. He turns, smile at the ready. He’s wearing a baggy sweater, the sleeves of which come down over his hands and the hem of which is in the process of coming unraveled. It makes him look smaller than he is.

“Lame party,” Arin jokes, gesturing back toward the house. “Don’t blame you for ditching.”

“Nah, man, it’s not that,” Dan is quick to argue, shrugging. He bumps their hips together as Arin draws near. The temperature is starting to drop to match the abruptly snowy scenery and Arin shivers. Dan doesn’t seem bothered by the cold, for once. “The party’s nice. Just needed a break.”

Despite his sunny and deceptively outgoing nature, Arin knows that Dan has several introverted tendencies, such as craving isolation after extended periods of socializing. “I can go back in,” Arin immediately offers, and it’s genuine, meant to sound understanding. Instead it comes out sounding disappointed, or even sarcastic, and in response Dan drapes an arm over his shoulders and draws him into his side.

“Don’t,” he says simply.

He’s warm. Arin is happy to stay.

“Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t sent that email?” Dan murmurs, voice gone soft.

This is something they’ve talked about before. Arin hums. “I don’t like to,” he admits, because if he hadn’t sent that email he probably would never have met Dan, and a Dan-free existence is too sad to contemplate.

“Me, either,” Dan agrees. He chuckles, and releases Arin far enough to look him in the eye. “I love you, man,” he says, seriously but with a grin. It’s something he’s said before, too many times to count, but this time it brings Arin up short.

 _I want to kiss him_ , Arin realizes, searching Dan’s face.

As though he’s answering the silent request, Dan leans forward. He tilts Arin’s chin up with two fingers, holds him there as he presses their lips together. Dan’s warmth bleeds into Arin. They separate, but not far, and Arin leans in again-

Only to abruptly wake up, his alarm sounding mere inches from his face.

“God damn it,” he mutters decisively, silencing the alarm with more force than necessary. He’s not sure which he’s cursing- the alarm for waking him up or his brain for conjuring up the dream.

The problem, he decides, is that the dreams feel too _real_. They feel more like memories than dreams. But he’s definitely never kissed Dan, never even really entertained the idea. Not seriously, anyway.

He is now, though.

He touches his lips, remembering the way it’d felt in the dream. It was… nice, to say the least. His heart is still doing weird, fluttery things in his chest at the thought.

“I think I have a crush on Dan,” he says aloud, and half expects laughter in return. But he’s utterly alone in his bedroom and it isn’t a joke. 

“I have a crush on Dan,” he says again, letting the idea sink in. Then, “Shit.”

-

Arin is making a concentrated effort _not_ to be weird around Dan while also fighting the urge to squirm away every time Dan comes near him.

He and Dan have always been extremely comfortable around each other and, as such, prone to a lot of casual touching. Personal space isn’t a thing with them and never has been. But now it feels dishonest on Arin’s part. For Dan, each embrace or impromptu cuddling session is still as platonic as it’s ever been. But Arin finds himself fending off butterflies every time they come into contact, and his efforts to _not_ think about kissing Dan mostly lead to more thinking about kissing Dan, to the point where he sort of zones out staring at Dan’s lips sometimes.

Even so, he thinks he’s doing a pretty good job of keeping that shit on lockdown right up until Barry and Ross corner him in the otherwise empty Grump Space. They catch him looking for a spare PS4 controller, and sneak up on him just when he’s closed a hand around it and is getting ready to do a triumphant fist pump.

“The fuck’s going on with you?” Ross asks with all his usual tact. 

Arin spins around, controller in hand. He knows immediately what Ross is talking about. The Christmas dream is three days gone but it still feels fresh in Arin’s mind. He swallows. “Uh.”

“What he means is,” Barry says, pausing to glare at Ross. “You’ve been quiet. And Dan says you’re avoiding him.” His eyes go wide and earnest. “Is everything okay?”

If anyone else had asked, Arin would have blown them off. He’d have dismissed their worry. But because it’s Barry, Arin hesitates. He hesitates just long enough for it to seem weird, just long enough to damn himself.

Ross begins to smirk. “You fucked, right?”

A surprised and indignant noise escapes Arin’s mouth. The tips of his ears turn red and he can feel his cheeks growing warm. “Wha- no,” he sputters, waving his hands. The controller starts flashing. “I- why would you _say_ that? We would- he’s- What the hell, Ross?”

Ross’ smirk only grows, and Barry starts blinking rapidly. “What, you’re the only one allowed to joke about you and Dan getting it on?” Ross asks, eyebrow raised. “Gee, Arin, you seem awfully _defensive_.”

Joke. Right- of course Ross is joking. Because of course Arin and Dan actually fucking is so far out of the realm of possibility that Ross would never seriously suggest it could happen. Which should be a good thing, but instead of feeling relieved Arin just feels insulted, and then annoyed. “Fuck off,” he grumbles, but it doesn’t have any edges. It’s just what he’s expected to say, so he says it.

“Jokes aside,” Barry steps in, ever the voice of reason. “Everything good?”

“Everything’s good,” Arin assures him, but can’t quite make it sound real. Barry is kind enough to let him get away with it.

“You can talk to me about anything,” Barry tells him seriously.

“Me too,” Ross crows as Barry drags him from the room.

Arin knows that’s true. And even though he doubts he’d ever want to talk about his crush on Dan with either of them, it’s nice to know he has the option. Barry wouldn’t judge him and, for all his teasing, Ross would at least listen. The very idea makes Arin feel a little better- right up until the third dream rains on his parade.

The worst part about the third dream is the setting. It takes place in the recording room, perfectly constructed from Arin’s memory. He and Dan are in the midst of a recording session. Arin is playing. Dan is eating skittles. It’s all so goddamned _normal_. It even smells the same- like summer and sugar and a little bit like sweat.

But the thread of anticipation coiling like a snake in Arin’s stomach is unusual. The way Dan keeps glancing at him from under his eyelashes, keeps biting his lip and smirking, is unusual. And the way Dan reaches over, right before the end of the episode, to dance his fingers from Arin’s knee up his thigh is _definitely_ unusual.

Dan wastes no time once they finish out the episode. He’s across the couch in the blink of an eye, suddenly occupying Arin’s space in a way that’s new but also somehow familiar. He crowds Arin up against the arm of the couch, declares, “You did so good today, baby,” in a voice that verges on being a whisper, meant only for Arin’s ears.

Arin feels the praise like a shiver down his spine. “You think so?”

“I do,” Dan assures him. He kisses Arin, first the corner of his mouth and then a proper kiss. He smiles into it and when they break apart Arin points out, “You taste like skittles,” which sends Dan into a giggle fit. He rests his head on Arin’s shoulder once he settles, plants a feather-light kiss on his neck.

It’s almost tragic when Arin wakes up and realizes he doesn’t actually have Dan in his arms. He’s tempted to go back to sleep, to try and conjure the dream again- but, as luck would have it, they have a session that day.

Sitting next to Dan on the grump couch after a dream so realistic is exactly as torturous as Arin would have predicted. He’d thought he’d be okay- he was _determined_ to be okay. Instead he finds himself drifting off mid-sentence because he can’t stop thinking about the way Dan is sitting so close, about the way he’d leaned over in the dream to kiss Arin right after a session just like this one. About how if that happened right now he’d probably taste like skittles.

Dan brings it up during an episode. Arin stumbles over his words one too many times and Dan half-jokingly inquires after his mental state. Arin didn’t plan to say anything. He certainly didn’t plan to tell the _truth_ but that’s what spills out of his mouth. He mimics Dan’s half-joking tone, already trying to play it off before he even knows how Dan will react. The fact that they’re recording somehow makes it easier. At least if they’re recording, Arin thinks, Dan is more likely to believe it’s all for show.

“Just thinking about normal bro things,” Arin says casually as, on screen, his character dies. “Like, you know, kissing your bros. That kind of thing.”

“Oh, _that_ kind of thing,” Dan agrees, playing along. “Any bros in particular? I mean, Barry is really rocking that new haircut.”

“Yeah,” Arin mumbles. His character dies again. He curses. “But it’s- not him. No offense, Barry.”

“Who, then?” Dan prompts. He scratches his chin, probably running down a mental list of potential bros. “’S not Ross, is it?”

“No, no.” Arin starts to fidget, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. He knows he’s doing it, knows that it’s incriminating, but can’t seem to stop. “See, I’ve been… I mean, have you ever had a dream about a bro? Like, not a sex dream but-“

“You had a sex dream about a guy?” Dan asks, sounding overly scandalized and on the verge of laughter.

“I just said _not_ a sex dream,” Arin points out, rolling his eyes.

“Was it about me?” Dan demands to know, and when Arin doesn’t immediately refute the notion he gasps, loud and exaggerated. “It _was_! Tell me about this dream, Arin. Was I on top?” He giggles. “Oh man, please tell me I was a good fuck.”

“It wasn’t-“ Arin cuts himself off with a sigh. “We just kissed, man.” He can’t quite look Dan in the eye but the game provides a good enough excuse not to, anyway. He can feel Dan looking at him, though, head tilted inquisitively. 

“Why?” Dan asks. “Was there mistletoe? Was it a dare?”

“No…” Arin hedges. His palms are starting to get sweaty where he’s gripping the controller. He’s focusing less and less on the game. At this point he’s starting to make stupid mistakes but he doesn’t care. He feels a sudden pressing need to get this off his chest and if he does it now, while they’re recording- and most of the way done with an episode, at that- Dan can’t say anything too harsh. “It was just... A thing that we did, I think. Just, like, normally.”

“Just a normal thing that we did,” Dan parrots, monotone. He hums.

“We were here,” Arin elaborates, because he can’t not fill the silence. “It was weird, right, but I can’t stop thinking about it cause it was so realistic.”

The silence still stretches on but Arin bites his tongue, unwilling to say any more. Eventually Dan asks, sounding suddenly somber, “Arin… Do you want that to be a thing that we do normally?”

“What?” Arin asks, even though he heard. He’s sure his cheeks are flaming at this point. He feels hot. He forces himself to meet Dan’s gaze, which he immediately regrets. He can’t lie to Dan. Not even a little. “I don’t- I don’t fucking know, man. Maybe.” The last word is mumbled, barely intelligible.

“Won’t know until we try,” Dan says, and nods once like he’s just reached some sort of conclusion. “That settles it. We’ve gotta kiss.”

Arin opens and closes his mouth. “I… What?”

“We gotta,” Dan says again. He adds, “I wanna.”

Arin searches his face for some sign that he’s joking. That he’s doing a bit. Instead he finds nothing but earnestness. Dan’s eyes drop to Arin’s lips and Arin swallows. “After the show, then,” Arin says, keeping his tone light. The viewers will think they’re joking, for sure. They can’t see the way Dan is looking at him, curious and excited and… _fond_.

Some part of Arin still doubts Dan’s seriousness. By the time they wrap the episode he’s convinced himself it was a bit after all, that Dan never really intended to kiss him. He stands, wants to stretch his legs before they start the next episode, but Dan catches his sleeve. He tugs Arin back onto the couch, watches him with a slight frown. His long legs are folded up beneath him and his hair is being kept in check by a blue beanie. On impulse, Arin reaches over and removes it. Dan’s curls fall to frame his face and Arin smooths the beanie between his fingers.

“Gotta let ‘em go free, man,” Arin says, tries for a smile.

Dan’s lips quirk up in response but he doesn’t acknowledge the comment. “Not trying to weasel your way out, are you?”

Arin swallows. “No, I- of course not.”

They’re sitting close- much closer than normal, which is saying something. There isn’t much space left to cross between them but Dan does- slowly, as though he’s afraid of spooking Arin. He cups Arin’s jaw with his hands, fingers cool against Arin’s flushed face. “Was the dream like this?” he asks, barely a breath away. He strokes his thumbs over Arin’s cheekbones.

This close, Arin can see the hints of gold in Dan’s eyes. He can see the crinkles at the corners, and the way they deepen as Dan smiles at him. He can smell Dan’s shampoo and, for the first time, he notices how long Dan’s eyelashes are. Arin’s heart is beating about a thousand miles a minute in his chest and he’s surprised there aren’t actual butterflies trying to break out of his stomach.

“This is better,” he decides, fighting to keep the nervous tremble out of his voice.

Dan is still smiling when he kisses Arin. His lips are dry and soft and it’s like he knows how to kiss Arin on instinct, slotting the two of them together perfectly. Directing the kiss deeper when Arin melts into it, humming his approval when Arin licks into his mouth, tasting him. He practically keens when Arin tugs experimentally at his hair and when they separate he doesn’t go far, keeps his fingers twisted in the fabric of Arin’s shirt and looks at him from under his lashes.

“What do you think?” Dan asks. His gaze darts between Arin’s eyes and his lips. He licks his own, unconsciously. “Should this be a thing we do now?”

Arin sort of sways towards him. “I think you should pinch me,” he says. “To make sure I’m not dreaming.”

Dan smirks. “Or I could just kiss you again, since that’s more fun.”

Arin hums his agreement and pulls Dan to him.

Later, Arin opens the next episode with, “Well, folks, dreams really do come true.”

Dan scoffs but there’s nothing but warmth in his gaze.

**Author's Note:**

> I also have a [tumblr](http://dontcareajot.tumblr.com)! Come say hi and talk to me about the Grumps~


End file.
